What Happens Now?
by Rachel D
Summary: REVISED THIRD EDITION!  My version of what happens to Luka between the time his family is killed and when he moves to Chicago.  No flames please!  COMPLETED!
1. Chapter 1

_**WHAT HAPPENS NOW?**_

A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if the title is too similar to the title of the first episode of the tenth season. I'm also sorry if I seem like I'm beating an old horse to death with this story, but this is my take on what happens to Luka between the time his family is killed and the time he moves to Chicago. I'm basing this loosely on "The Crossing", so if there are any inaccuracies, I just wanted you to know that I tried my hardest to pay attention to the episode.

**CHAPTER 1**

"Danijela? Jasna? Marko? Where are you? _Where are you?"_

The next thing I heard was another explosion, only this one was much louder, and the next thing I knew, I was in bed in my apartment in Chicago, and it was raining really hard outside. The clock on my nightstand read 1:30, or in my half-awake stupor, that's what it looked like. It had been five years since I'd come to America, but a year and a half of that was in Chicago, the land of opportunity, as it was so often called, and after what I'd been through back in Croatia, I really needed one.

My name is Dr. Luka Kovac, and I came to America to start my life over.

How did I get here? Well, it's a long story, one that I don't like talking about. Recently, I told a bishop, who was dying of lupus, what I hardly ever tell anyone, not even my colleagues at County General, with the exception of Kerry Weaver: I lost my family—my wife, my four-year-old daughter, and my nineteen-month-old son—during the Croatian War of Independence.

Almost every time I close my eyes these days, I'm finding myself back in my apartment in Vukovar, Croatia. It was a simply furnished place for someone who was an intern. My wife, Danijela, always dreamed of finding a nicer place in Zagreb or somewhere, and I always dreamed of the promotion that would take us there. The neighborhood we were living in was getting more violent every day, and as a doctor, I knew that we were were easy targets. I just didn't know how easy it would be. Either that, or I was too ambitious to realize it.

And I also had to finish my internship.

The day I'm referring to started off like any other, or so I wished. I wanted to come into the kitchen to find Danijela making breakfast, and the children waiting for her Belgian waffles. You know, the usual stuff, then look in the icebox to find that we were out of milk. We Kovacs are known for drinking that stuff like the world was ending. I'd tell them that I was going to the market to get milk and medical supplies, I'd be back soon, and to be ready, because after breakfast, we were going to my brother's house in Zagreb, where it was safer.

In reality, we were racing against time to get out of our neighborhood, because when we woke up that morning, we heard the fighting getting closer to where we were, and we knew we had to get out of there. As if I were stuck in fast-forward, I jumped out of bed and threw on the first set of clothes I could grab. Then I ran out of the room, telling Danijela I was going to the market for milk and medical supplies, I'd be back soon, but in the meantime, she was to wake and dress the kids, and pack much as possible, and be ready to leave.

When I passed by the kids' room, both of them were sitting up in bed. "Papa, can we come with you?" Jasna asked.

"No, it isn't safe," I told her. "Get dressed and help your mama pack, and I'll be back soon."

"Okay, Papa," she agreed. I kissed both of them on the forehead, and walked out of the room. I had no idea what was about to happen, or I would've taken them with me.

As I was crossing the street, that's when I heard it: the whistling. The instant it started, I could feel everything moving in slow motion. I turned around, and even though it was barely daylight, I could tell that it was some kind of missile. Without stopping to wonder where it was headed, or even a thought for my own safety, I started running back to the building. I could hear a motorist honk and swear at me, but I didn't care.

I saw the mortar shell hit the building, and I even saw it explode, but I didn't hear a sound. It was like watching a TV show with the mute button on. It wasn't until I saw the building actually burning that I heard the screams, both from inside and around me, but I didn't hear Danijela or the kids, and then I knew.

"Danijela? Jasna? Marko?" I called as I ran toward what had once been my home. I'd barely made it to the courtyard where this one guy, who looked a good hundred pounds heavier than me, grabbed my arm and started pulling me away, yelling at me not to go in. The shell had apparently hit the top floor, and it started to cave in. Somehow, I broke free from the man's grasp, and made my way inside.

The entire stairwell leading to my floor was in shambles. Other people who lived in my building—neighbors and dear friends, people I'd known all my life—were lying all around me, bleeding, dying, desperate for someone to help. For a moment, I debated on whether or not I should stay and help, or continue on my way upstairs. Then I heard Danijela calling my name, and that's when I knew that I couldn't do anything for these people. I ran the rest of the way upstairs, shouting their names, and down the hall to my apartment.

The whole place was completely trashed, like it had been hit by a tornado. And there, in the living room, beside where the china cabinet used to be, was Marko's crib, overturned, and my baby son was inside. There was no doubt in my mind that he was dead. But where were my wife and daughter? I didn't have to look for long, because I heard moaning coming from the direction of the kitchen. It was Danijela. She was sitting with her back to the wall, and Jasna was lying on the floor in front of her. Both of them were a bloody mess, but somehow, were still alive.

"Marko's dead, Luka," my wife moaned.

"I know," I said as I felt for signs of life from my daughter. Finding none, I picked her up and shouted out the window, "Can somebody help us, please?"

Since no one was answering me, I took a closer look at both girls. I knew that a piece of shrapnel had somehow made its way into Danijela's spleen, because she was clutching her stomach. I also knew that if she could get to a hospital, she could have a life-saving operation. The hospital was only about twenty minutes away. Then I turned my attention to Jasna, starting CPR, and trying to focus on both her and my wife at the same time. I worked on my daughter for what seemed like hours before I finally collapsed.

Two cops rushed in and helped me to my feet, and the next thing I knew, we were back outside in the courtyard. It didn't even look like a courtyard anymore. In fact, there was nothing that remotely resembled the neighborhood. All I saw were burned-out, crumbling houses, apartment buildings, store fronts, you name it. Everything was gone, just gone.

That was the last thing I remember before passing out.

"Dr. Kovac? Can you hear me?"

I blinked and turned my head in the direction of the voice. It was Dr. Dimitrov, who had been my mentor when I was in medical school.

"What happened?" I asked groggily.

"Shh," a nurse's voice said. That's when I felt someone pat my face with a cool washcloth, as well as a pen light in my eyes.

"Dr. Kovac?" Dr. Dimitrov repeated. "Are you with us?"

"Where are they?" I demanded as my eyes fluttered open. Even though I was still a little out of it, I wanted to know where my family was.

The nurse looked at me sadly. "Dr. Kovac," she said in Croatian. "They're gone."

I felt tears coming to my eyes, and turned my head away. I didn't want my former mentor to see me crying. "Did they...?" I started to ask her.

"Yes, they found them," she answered. I could tell that she was crying, too. "They got them out of the building before it collapsed."

That was all I needed to know.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"They're gone," the nurse repeated.

As soon as the news sank in, I just lost it. I tried to sit up, but couldn't. I was still a little dizzy. It took both Dr. Dimitrov and the nurse to hold me down.

"Should I get the restraints, doctor?" the nurse asked.

Restraints? I really hoped it wouldn't come to that. I didn't think I was a danger to myself, or either of them.

"No," the doctor answered. "He'll be all right. He's just in shock, that's all."

I felt the nurse check my vitals. "BP's 101/63, pulse 96, temp's 99," she reported.

"Dr. Kovac?" Dr. Dimitrov said as he put the stethoscope on my chest. "Do you remember what happened?"

I shook my head. I barely remembered what happened. I tried my best to block it out.

"Your apartment was hit. The top floor caved in on the bottom floor, and your family was crushed," the doctor told me.

That's when the floodgates opened. I lay there and sobbed. The nurse dabbed at my eyes with a tissue. I was a little embarrassed that my former mentor was now seeing me cry. I also knew that he understood what I was going through.

"Shh," he said, stroking my arm. "It's all right. You're going to be just fine."

"It's just not possible," I babbled. "They were just fine a few hours ago." Then I thought of whoever may have fired that missile. He killed my family! That murderous son of a bitch!

"Whoever it is, I swear to God, I'll kill him!" I shouted, throwing the pillow, the medical trays, and anything else within my reach. One young medical student tried to grab me, but in the heat of the moment, I put my hand over his face and shoved him across the room. I was totally out of control.

"Get the restraints!" Dr. Dimitrov ordered, and the next thing I knew, he, the nurse, and two other doctors were pinning me to the gurney and strapping down my arms and legs. I was in such a blind rage that I forgot my English—yes, sometimes we do speak it sometimes—and started yelling in Croatian.

I struggled against the restraints for a minute, then felt someone give me a shot of Haldol or something. I immediately stopped struggling, and settled back into a peaceful sleep.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

When I woke up again, I was in another room. I looked around and found that I was completely alone. I could also hear the EKG beeping steadily.

"Dr. Kovac?" a voice said. "Are you all right?"

I mumbled something in Croatian, then looked in the direction of the voice. It was the young student I'd shoved earlier. "I'm sorry," I whispered to him.

"That's all right," he answered. "You're not the first person we've had to use the restraints on."

"I still can't believe my family's gone," I said.

"I know, and I just want you to know how sorry I am for your loss," he said.

"Thank you," I said as he unhooked the EKG.

"Would you like to get up and walk?" the intern asked.

"I don't know if I can, but I'll give it a try," I said.

"Let me get the nurse," he said, pressing the call button.

Within minutes, the nurse came back. "I'm sorry," I whispered to her.

"That's all right," she said.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I said.

"Sure," the nurse said, lowering the bedrail. The two of them helped me to my feet, and the intern followed me to the bathroom door.

As soon as I got in the bathroom and shut the door, I began to cry softly. It just didn't seem fair that my family was alive less than 24 hours ago, and now they weren't. I quickly used the toilet, then washed my face and hands, splashed some cold water on my face, and left.

"Are you all right now?" the nurse asked as I came out. I nodded, and the two of them helped me back into bed.

As I drifted off to sleep, I thought, _I've got to get out of Croatia. It just holds too many bad memories for me._

The only question was, where was I going to go?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This is the last chapter.

**CHAPTER 3**

I spent the next five days in the hospital. Every day, I'd get up and walk around, but the nurses helped me during the first couple of days. I also eventually grew tired of the food, and I understood why the patients complained about it so much. The "food" tasted like cardboard.

During my third day in the hospital, I got a surprise visit from my sister-in-law, Vesna. She'd come all the way from Zagreb just to see me. "Hi, Luka," she said as she entered the room. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm hanging in there," I confessed.

"It'll take time. Nobody expects you to get over this immediately," she said, patting my shoulder. "I felt the same way when Papa passed away."

I still remember that day like it had just happened. I'm told that her father had died of lung cancer a few years ago, in fact, when she was seven months pregnant with my niece. Some people said that he'd consumed too much from life. He'd smoked and drank too much, and was never mindful of his salt and sugar intake, or how much sleep he got. Technically speaking, he didn't take very good care of himself, so it was no surprise to me when he'd died. Still, it was one of the most painful times in my life, until this.

"So, what brings you here?" I asked.

"Well," she said, "last night, Niko and I were talking, and we think you should stay with us until you find another place of your own."

"Really? That's awfully nice of you," I said. "The only thing is, I'll need some new clothes, because the only ones I have are the ones I was wearing when the building was bombed."

"That's not a problem," she said.

I thought it was nice of her to offer to let me stay with her and her family, but still, it wouldn't be the same as having my own place.

A couple of days later, I was finally released from the hospital. Niko and Vesna picked me up in their light green pick-up truck. Nataljia was sitting in the backseat. "Hi, Nataljia," I said as I got in the truck.

"Hi, Uncle Luka," she answered. She's so sweet for a six-year-old. I've often been told how mature she is for her age, as well. As long as I've known her, she's always acted so grown up, and always made it a point to think of others first.

"So, have you decided what you're going to do now?" Niko asked.

"Not yet," I answered.

A few hours later, we pulled up in front of the house, in a pretty part of Zagreb. As I headed inside, I said, "I'm a little tired, so I think I'll take a nap."

"That's all right," my brother said. "You've had quite an ordeal over the past few days, and you need your rest."

"Thanks," I said. When I got inside, I kicked off my shoes and laid down on the couch. Nataljia sat by my head.

I had just drifted off to sleep when the events of the previous week started to haunt me all over again. I could still hear the screams of people around me, not to mention the whistles and sirens. "Danijela? Jasna? Marko?" I called as I bolted upright on that couch.

I heard another scream, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Nataljia sitting there with her hand over her mouth. I guess I'd scared her a little.

"Uncle Luka, what's wrong?" she asked as Niko and Vesna rushed over to me.

"He's just having a nightmare, honey," my sister-in-law explained. "You know, how you sometimes have those?" Nataljia nodded as Niko took her out of the room, and Vesna settled me back on the couch. "It's all right," she said soothingly, in Croatian. Then she started singing the old Slavic lullaby that Mama used to sing to me and Niko when we were babies.

I fell asleep again, just knowing that things had to get better.

A week later, after the funerals for my wife and children, we were sitting at the table, having dinner, when I decided that now was the time to tell them. "I have something to tell you," I said.

"What is it?" Vesna asked.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past couple of weeks, and I've come to a decision," I said.

"You're leaving Croatia, aren't you?" Niko asked.

"Why, Uncle Luka?" Nataljia asked. I could see her eyes filling with tears.

"It's become too painful for me to live here," I explained. "After what happened to your aunt and cousins, I have to get away from all the things that remind me of that day."

"Can we come with you?"

"No, honey, this is his decision," her mother explained. "Don't worry, your Uncle Luka still loves us very much, and always will, but it's just better this way."

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" Niko asked.

I nodded. "I've already gotten my passport, and they've approved my exit visa and green card application. I'll be leaving in a few days."

"Where will you get work?" Vesna asked.

"Well, there's a hospital in Seattle where I've applied to finish my internship," I said. Then, turning to Nataljia, I said, "which means I'll be finishing my training there."

I was going to miss them all terribly, but I think they knew as well that it was the right thing to do.

A few days later, I bought a plane ticket to America. Id heard about Seattle's reputation for rainy weather, but I was prepared anyway.

The day before I left, I paid one last visit to my parents. Just before I left their house, Papa took one of my hands in both of his and said, "We only part to meet again." I thought it was a great blessing.

Anyway, when I got off the plane in Seattle and left the airport, I got a motel room. The next day, I got out a phone book. I'd started smoking occationally when I was in college, but ever since the day my family died, I found myself going through a pack and a half a day, at the most, and decided that if I was going to be a doctor in America, I'd have to stop.

I flipped through the phone book to "Hypnotists", and found an entry for a Dr. Michael Strother. I figured that if anyone could help me, he'd be the one. I called the number and made an appointment for the next afternoon.

When I arrived at his office, I saw another client coming out. "What's this guy like?" I asked her.

"A little unusual," she answered. "He can see into your mind while you're under hypnosis."

"Wow," I murmured. That sounded interesting. I got to the waiting room just as he was releasing another client, and noticed that he looked an awful lot like me. I wondered if he could be my long-lost twin. I also noticed that he had a British accent, so I asked him about it.

"I'm originally from London," he told me. "Recently while I was there, I helped Scotland Yard treat a little girl who had escaped from a serial killer, even if it meant not only going beyond my specialty, but also putting my career on the line. This is actually my second time living in Seattle, though. The first time I fled was because I was treating a guy who was afraid of water, even though he's a good swimmer. All I did was tell him that he was invincible, and the next day, he decided to go out and play 'polar bear'."

"Really?" I asked. That sounded very interesting.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" she asked, and the session soon got underway. I thought it was a very interesting experience. I'd once heard a story about a guy who went for a hypnosis session, and could've sworn the air conditioner was on the whole time, but the hypnotist told him it wasn't. I also couldn't help wondering what _else _he was seeing in my mind. After the session was over, he said, "You don't want to smoke anymore, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, handing him the money.

I really hoped he was right.

I'd finished my internship a few years later, and was now officially a doctor. I was actually in a good mood for the first time in years. I got on my laptop and went to this one medical website, where I found an entry for a teaching hospital in Chicago. I decided to apply there, maybe start off as a moonlighter, which meant I'd be filling in for someone who was absent, not to mention an extra pair of hands in case of a major trauma, and work my way up. I got the address off the Internet, wrote a letter requesting a position, and asked the nurse at the Seattle hospital to type it up for me, then I sent it, hoping to hear from them soon. I thought it might be a good experience, and I'd heard a lot of good things about the city in general, so I knew I had nothing to lose. The worst thing they could do was turn me down.

That summer, I found myself getting off a plane at Midway Airport in Chicago. I'd been told that O'Hare is an absolute zoo, and to make sure I didn't end up there. Not that Midway wasn't packed, but it was still pretty busy. I also remembered that as I was leaving the airport in Zagreb, Niko had repeated Papa's words, which I thought was nice of him.

As soon as I got my suitcase and went outside, I found a cab waiting for me. I was driven to an apartment building on the east side of the city. Not only was the apartment building taller, but the apartment itself was nicer than the one my family and I had in Vukovar.

The next day, I got on the El to go to County General for my interview. I noticed a woman with dark curly hair and a large, protruding stomach sitting a few rows away from me. At first glance, I could tell that she was expecting. "How far along are you?" I asked.

"About five and a half months," she answered. "I'm having twins."

"Oh, that's great," I said as we got off the El and started across the street to the hospital. "I'm here to interview for the moonlighting job. Do you know where I'm supposed to go?"

"The personnel office is on the third floor, second door on the left," she said as we stepped into the hospital.

"Thanks," I said, and headed for the elevator.

The interview went very well. The interviewer was a short, balding man with Paul Newman eyes and a bit of a sarcastic attitude. "Well, I guess this is where I say welcome to County, and be careful what you wish for," he said at the end of the interview.

"Let me introduce you to some of the other people who work here," he said. "First of all, I'm Robert Romano, as you know." He took me around the department and introduced me to Kerry Weaver, a red-haired woman who wore glasses and walked with a crutch; Carol Hathaway, the nurse I'd met on the El; Mark Greene, a man with thinning brown hair and glasses; Peter Benton, an African-American man with a moustache and soul patch; Cleo Finch, an African-American woman with long curly hair ("She just started here last week," Dr. Romano told me); Jeanie Boulet, an African-American woman with short straight hair; Elizabeth Corday, a curly red-haired woman who spoke with a British accent; John Carter, a boyish-looking Resident with dark hair; Lucy Knight, a medical student with dark blond hair, and several other nurses.

"Thank you," I said, and walked out of the hospital.

A couple of days later, I arrived at the hospital to find an ambulance pulling up with a three-year-old girl having a febrile seizure. The girl's parents joined me just as she was being wheeled inside. "I'll take it from here," I told the paramedics. Then, to the parents, I said, "Hi, I'm Dr. Kovac. Don't worry, she's in good hands."

My career as a doctor in America had officially begun.

**THE END**


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